


Smoke Over Coruscant

by jp2187



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, And a happy ending, Anisoka, Assistant DA Padmé, CEO Satine, Crime Thriller, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, Mayor Palpatine, Minor Swearing, Past Anidala, Past off and on Luxsoka, Police detectives Anakin & Obi-Wan, Police officer Ahsoka, Sketchy nightclub, Tobacco use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jp2187/pseuds/jp2187
Summary: They called Coruscant the ‘City that Never Sleeps,’ and like the sprawling metropolis Police Detective Anakin Skywalker was usually wide-awake in the wee hours of the morning.  While Mayor Palpatine’s upcoming presidential bid was all anyone could talk about, the insidious force consolidating power in the underworld continued to elude authorities.  Assistant DA Padmé Amidala had deciphered a crucial clue to the kingpin’s identity, but no matter how many times the reoccurring nightmare plagued Anakin’s sleep she never managed to tell him before the car bomb went off.  With his kids sent away for their own safety, the rest of Anakin’s life was as stalled as his wife’s murder investigation.  Aware that Obi-Wan’s concern for his sanity was perfectly justified, Anakin also found the surprising new dimension to his dislike for Ahsoka’s on again off again boyfriend only adding to his mental strain.  With Obi-Wan and Ahsoka attempting to stop him from completely falling apart, however, Anakin kept trying to unravel the dangerous mystery—knowing it was the only way to get what’s left of his family back.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Ahsoka Tano, Lux Bonteri/Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 64
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Impossiblefangirl0632](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impossiblefangirl0632/gifts).



_In the shadows always, it had taken years to even get a name for the ruthless kingpin seizing control of the Coruscant underworld._

_Sidious._

_With bodies of anyone who crossed him piling up, it had taken even longer to get anything resembling a lead to the sinister crime lord’s identity. But at last someone had made a mistake._

_It wasn’t a photograph, a partial fingerprint, or anything else resembling a useful piece of identifying information—just a handwritten ‘S’ on a scrap of paper. To the FBI taskforce and the police it barely counted as a break at all._

_Assist District Attorney Padmé Amidala was halfway back to her car when the horrifying truth suddenly slammed into her—and she realized that the ‘S’ was all they would need._

_The proof was at home, and Padmé quickened her steps . . . all to aware that_ he _also knew she had it._

_She pulled out her cellphone as she climbed into her car, and hastily put her seatbelt on as it dialed._

_“Hey Babe-”_

_“Ani, listen to me! I know who Sidious is! It’s-”_

_Padmé’s words were swallowed up by the fireball that suddenly engulfed the car—the name on her lips dying with her._

\------------------------------

“Padmé!” Anakin cried as he sat bolt upright in bed.

His disorientation began to clear as he came fully awake—the dream giving way to the nightmare that was his life.

Anakin looked over at the clock.

3 AM.

He was not sure why he bothered looking at it anymore since it was always the same time. It was just part of his routine at this point.

Aware from past experience that returning to sleep would be impossible, Anakin swung his legs over the side of the bed, and slipped his robe over his bare chest as he headed for the living room.

Upon entering, he flipped on the TV as he poured himself a glass of water.

“After securing the party nomination, Coruscant’s own Mayor Palpatine is one step closer to the White House,” the news anchor announce with pride before the feed cut to a clip from the latest rally.

“In these uncertain times, nothing is more important than ensuring the safety and security of our society. As president, I pledge myself to bringing stability and peace to all citizens of this great nation!” Palpatine declared to the thunderous applause of his supporters.

Having downed his water, Anakin shut off the TV and stepped out onto the balcony.

Collecting the box from what he refused to concede had become its ‘place,’ Anakin fished out a cigarette. He felt the usual pang of self-loathing as he lit up.

Knowing there was no way cigarette-hating Padmé would ever date a smoker, Anakin had quit the day before asking her out. And when the topic very quickly came up in conversation he had been able to in all honesty say that he was an ex-smoker. Padmé had given him a pass for the ‘the folly of his youth,’ and Anakin had stayed away from the self-destructive vice for the entirety of their relationship.

He had told himself it wouldn’t become a habit—just something to get him through Padmé’s funeral.

And then maybe the first month . . . which turned into just a few months . . . and a few months after that . . . until he was right back to where he started before he met his wife.

It was another part of her that had disappeared.

A part that he—Anakin—and not her killer had erased.

He wanted to stop but found at this point that he couldn’t.

Taking a long drag Anakin looked out at what had to be one of the most beautiful views in all of Coruscant. The crown jewel of the cityscape was of course 500 Republica, but the other skyscrapers all had their own distinctive splendor—including the one he was standing on.

Obi-Wan and Satine had insisted he stay with them ‘just until he got back on his feet.’

That had been two years ago.

While he liked imposing on his friends about as much as he liked smoking, Anakin had to admit that he did enjoy the multimillion-dollar view from their penthouse.

While Anakin would readily acknowledge that he had married a woman who was way out of his league, he still fell far short of the match his partner had somehow pulled off.

Why the heiress and CEO of the billion-dollar Mandalore empire was married to a lowly police detective was the gossip rags’ favorite topic of debate on slow news days. Anakin knew they had met when Obi-Wan was with the marines and assigned to Satine’s overseas protection detail. The marine and the heiress had apparently had quite an exciting time evading a terrorist’s kidnapping plot—and the rest as they say was history.

What Anakin also knew with absolutely certainty was that he was greatly indebted to both of them.

After Padmé's murder Anakin had been nearly catatonic with shock. Unsurprisingly, Satine had set aside her grief, and immediately stepped in to rescue the family who survived her friend. Anakin doubted Padmé’s body had been in the morgue more than a few hours before Satine swooped in, had all the family’s personal effects—from the bedrooms, Padmé’s home office, living room, dinning room, kitchen, and even the attic—boxed up and moved to the penthouse, along with Anakin and the twins.

In one of those boxes was something someone wanted very badly.

Whatever the intruder was looking for when he broke into the Skywalker’s home it was apparently no longer there—which was why he brazenly moved on to the penthouse.

The twins had been home alone with the housekeeper at the time. Anakin had fortunately returned unexpectedly in the middle of the home invasion. Although he had not managed to catch the intruder, Anakin was convinced the man had escaped empty handed.

Although nothing had been stolen, Anakin quickly realized he had still lost something—something far more precious than anything in a box.

Satine vowed to get the whole building’s security upgraded, but Anakin knew it would do nothing to ease his mind. The security in the penthouse was already state of the art—which meant whoever had broken in was a professional of the highest caliber.

Fearing there was nowhere in Coruscant where his children would be safe, Anakin sent them away.

Padmé’s sister Sola still lived upstate in Naboo, and had welcomed Luke and Leia into her family—just until their mother’s killer was caught. She had also been incredibly gracious about the presence in her home of the private security detail Anakin had hired with Padmé’s money. All ex-military who had served with Obi-Wan in the marines, Rex, Cody, and the boys were the only reason Anakin got any sleep at all.

The separation had gone on far longer than anyone anticipated. Although expressing it in their own individual ways, neither twin was coping well. Their father was doing the worst of the three of them, however, and seemed to perpetually live on the verge of completely losing it.

Anakin exhaled slowly, and watched the smoke descend onto the city below.

In moments of exasperation, Obi-Wan liked to frequently remind his partner that he would not have made it in any branch of the armed forces. Anakin did not understand Obi-Wan’s need to belabor the point since Anakin completely agreed with him.

Anakin could barely make it in the structure of the police department as his lengthy suspension record provided ample testament. The only thing that saved him from getting thrown out on his ear was that Anakin was the best. No other detective in Coruscant had anywhere near his case closure rate, and his brilliant mind provided him considerable latitude for his dalliances across the line.

Although he really should have been fired and probably prosecuted for assaulting Cad Bane while the hit man was in custody.

There was enough circumstantial evidence that Bane had planted the car bomb that killed Padmé to detain him, but as the surprisingly good lawyer representing him was quick to point out nothing the police had would stick in court.

Anakin also knew in his bones that Bane was the one who broke into his home and then the penthouse. As the detective attempted to lean on the man who ruined his life for more information on who had hired him and what he had been looking for among Padmé’s possession—Bane had just cackled.

And Anakin snapped.

Bane only laughed harder as Anakin beat him to an inch of his life—fully aware that with this new police brutality charge his lawyer would have little trouble arranging for his release.

Anakin had been beside himself for losing control and screwing up the case. With his usual gruffness Captian Windu had yelled at Anakin so loudly that the entire 501st Precinct could hear every word, and made sure his problem child’s suspension was lengthy. Anakin, however, knew he was getting off extremely lightly, and the long duration was mainly to allow time for him to get his head on straight so he could again be useful to the people of Coruscant.

Although in the end it hadn’t actually mattered. While Anakin was beating Bane to a pulp, a judge had somehow been absurdly prevailed upon to grant bail. They had found Bane’s body in the river a few days later.

Anakin turned from the stunning Coruscant nightscape, and angrily smashed out what remained of his cigarette into the waiting ash tray.

He was the best detective in the city but he couldn’t close the only case that really mattered.

Returning inside he told himself what he always did, ‘Tonight will be different, tonight I will find it.’ Pulling out the banker boxes, Anakin laid out the contents on Satine’s elegant dining table.

After the penthouse break in, Anakin had gone through the contents of Padmé’s home office with a fine tooth comb—even going so far as to make highly illegal photocopies of her case files before returning the originals to the DA’s office. All of that went on one side of the table.

Anakin had also cashed in all his favors and a decent chunk of Obi-Wan’s for access to everything anyone had related to Sidious. On the other end of the table Anakin arranged all the information he had gathered on the man who had ordered Padmé’s death.

What took up the most room on the table was the diagram Anakin had made outlining the power structure of the Coruscant underworld.

At the bottom were all the major gangs operating in the city. Some of them had a narrow focus—the Pykes mainly ran drugs while the Zygerrians were heavily into human trafficking. Other crime syndicate like Crimson Dawn and Black Sun were diversified into anything profitable. On the fringe was Death Watch, which dabbled in arms dealing and other illegal activities in order to fund their main goal—attacking anything to do with Mandalore, Inc. and generally making Satine’s life difficult.

Above the individual gang leaders that changed from time to time, things got a lot murkier. Maul—with his hair spikes and frightening black and red facial tattoos—appear to roam between the syndicates as it suited him.

And then of course there was Dooku. 'The Count' oversaw it all, pitting one gang against another when necessary, taking a substantial cut of their profits—and arranging for marginalization and chastisement for groups that did not cooperate.

The crime lord was slippery as an eel and so far no one had managed to apprehend him. Anakin had come the closet to catching him on multiple occasions—but in the end Dooku always managed to escape.

Even now, the older man's picture stared mockingly up at Anakin from his place on the chart.

For a long time everyone thought Dooku _was_ the kingpin.

But slowly the indistinct outline of the true criminal mastermind began to emerge.

Information was very hard to come by—with the bodies of anyone who crossed him or simply knew too much showing up in the river. Those deaths, however, were calculated warnings. Most of the time people simply disappeared.

All that was known after years of hunting was that he went by Sidious and that was what the now infamous ‘S’ stood for—a picture of which stood as place marker above Dooku on Anakin’s chart.

The original had long ago disappeared from the evidence locker. The law enforcement rumor mill whispered that copies were systematically vanishing as well. Anakin believed those rumors, and the fact that he had a copy of the ‘S’ was not something that he broadcast about.

The only certainty was if there was power and influence to be gained from human suffering, Sidious had a shadowy hand in it. He ruled Coruscant as Emperor, with his ambitious sights set on loftier goals than controlling one city.

Anakin systematically went over everything for the umpteenth time. Around 4:30 he conceded that his investigation was still going about as well as his efforts to quit smoking, and he packed everything away.

He knew, however, he still wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep yet. So he moved on to the rest of his middle of the night routine.

Anakin could still not bring himself to look at his and Padmé's wedding photos. The volumes of paperwork related to her share of her family’s vast estate, which bore evidence to just how far Anakin had married up, he had never bothered going through at all. All he knew was the family’s longtime financial advisor occasionally put forms in front of him, and Anakin signed them without reading a word and left it at that.

On good nights he sometimes went through Padmé’s childhood treasures.

Tonight was not a good night, however, and Anakin skipped to reclining on the couch and flipping through her high school senior yearbook, which for some reason brought him a drop of solace.

As he had so many times, Anakin lovingly traced her senior picture with his fingertips. He then flipped to the other photographs of her on pages he had long ago memorized. There were lots of pictures in Padmé in that volume, which was of course why he liked it so much.

Padmé doing community service among local refugees. Padmé in Model UN. Padmé as senior class president. Padmé receiving an award from Mayor Palpatine for a speech and debate victory.

Somewhere in one of those boxes was a photograph of Palpatine—at the time the Mayor of Naboo—giving Padmé another award for being class valedictorian after he delivered the keynote address at her high school graduation.

The pair of Naboo were destined for much bigger things than their small hometown, and they had stayed in touch over the years when they both ended up in Coruscant. If he and Obi-Wan ever played ‘which of us has more impressive connections through our wife,’ Anakin knew the only card he could play would be the occasional dinner with Mayor Palpatine to which he accompanied Padmé.

Anakin thought of the news footage of Palpatine on the campaign trail. One Naboo was still on track for a dazzlingly bright future. The other’s life had been tragically cut short.

With that sad thought on his mind and the yearbook open on his chest, Anakin finally drifted back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ahsoka shares Padmé's opinion of Anakin smoking, and he drinks a lot of coffee--including with an old friend.

Looking around the diner that sat across the street from the 501st Precinct, Anakin noted it was pretty empty for a Friday morning.

With a cigarette dangling from his lips, the youngest detective 1st grade in the city of Coruscant then went in search of his lighter. He finally found it and was just raising it towards his mouth when a hand came out of nowhere and snatched the cigarette.

“I still can’t believe you started smoking again,” Ahsoka announced, as she had on an almost daily basis over the last two years.

“Hello to you too, Snips,” Anakin replied as she slid into the seat across from him.

Watching her crumble up the smoke he was planning to sneak in before she arrived, Anakin felt annoyed at her uncharacteristic punctuality. He knew better, however, than to try lighting up again while she was there.

By the time she set aside her service cap and tucked a napkin into her collar to keep ketchup off her blue uniform, a waitress was setting down her preferred breakfast that Anakin in his abundance of thoughtfulness and magnanimity had already ordered.

He sipped his coffee as he watched her tuck in.

While Anakin had looked good enough in dress blues to catch Padmé’s eye—although even then she still insisted their relationship stay secret until he made detective—Anakin would readily admit he did not miss wearing all the gear that came with being a beat cop.

With her sharp mind, Ahsoka would likely continue to follow in his footsteps and be fast-tracked to detective. But for the short time she would wear them, the sight of Ahsoka dressed in the standard police officer’s uniform filled Anakin with pride. He had been thrilled when she told him she had applied to the academy, and he had Obi-Wan pull a whole bunch of strings to ensure she was assigned to the 501st.

“You working all weekend?” Anakin asked as he took another sip of coffee.

“Just days tomorrow, and working undercover for an interdepartmental sting at night,” she answered between bites.

Something about the casual way she said that raised the hackles on the back of Anakin’s neck.

“With which department taking point?” Anakin inquired—although he already had a pretty good idea of the answer.

“ATF,” Ahsoka answered, at least having the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Ahsoka . . .” Anakin said, his voice suddenly full of suspicion.

“It’s not like that. I’m just going undercover for the sting. We’re not getting back together,” she said with confident assurance.

“Because I haven’t heard that one before once or twice—or _four_ times,” Anakin shot back.

“Well anyway, my shift is starting soon so I better be off,” Ahsoka deflected.

She hastily shoved her last bite into her mouth and rose to her feet.

“Thanks for breakfast, drive safe, and tell the twins I said ‘hi,’” Ahsoka said in a rush as she grabbed her service cap off the table.

“You’re welcome and will do,” he replied before returning to the topic at hand and ordering, “-and don’t do anything crazy.”

“I promise I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” Ahsoka responded with a smirk.

“That is in no way reassuring,” Anakin complained.

“I know!” she replied merrily as she began walking towards the exit.

As she passed him Ahsoka reached down and deftly plucked the pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Hey!” he exclaimed.

“Stop smoking Anakin! You did it once and you can do it again!” Ahsoka declared as a final parting.

Anakin watched her cross the street. As he rose to pay the bill, he weighed his options—deciding he wanted to see his kids more than he wanted to make an extra stop to replace his stolen cigarettes.

As he walked toward his car, Anakin pulled out his phone. By the time he climbed in a posh voice had answered.

“On the road yet?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Just heading out,” Anakin replied before adding, “Can you do me a favor and get us assigned to whatever ATF sting Lux Bonteri talked Ahsoka into working undercover on tomorrow night—or at least find out where it is.”

“Given the amount of trouble you will get in when you inevitably show up without a proper invitation, I'll see what I can do,” Obi-Wan replied with his most long suffering sigh.

“Thanks Obi-Wan,” Anakin told him as he pulled out of the parking spot and headed north.

\------------------------------

As usual, time in Naboo was a few hours of heaven.

In their exuberance to greet him, the twins had climbed into his lap before he could even get out of the car. Leia had insisted her father carry her for virtually all the time he was there, and Anakin had been happy to oblige. Luke’s smile returned, and it warmed Anakin’s heart to see light and joy once more radiating from his son. And with his children in his arms and snuggled up against him, Anakin had gotten a rare full night's sleep.

But all to soon it was time for him to leave again—and the excruciating pain for everyone that accompanied his departure.

Luke sobbed inconsolably, and Leia threw a truly epic temper tantrum. With his son’s sobs filling his ears as he climbed into his car and pulled away from the house, Anakin really wanted to join her. But since he was neither five nor at work he knew he couldn’t get away with it.

As Anakin pulled into the parking spot near the coffee shop he always frequented on his way back to Coruscant, Anakin noticed the small fleet of black Escalades out front.

A man dressed in a suit, sunglasses, with a visible earpiece indicated that the shop was still open, and Anakin went inside.

Although the presence of the entourage had given him a heads up, Anakin was nonetheless surprised to find Mayor Palpatine inside.

“Mayor Palpatine! What a surprise to see you here . . . I thought you were on the campaign trail,” Anakin said.

“Oh hello Anakin,” Palpatine replied, as he and his wife rose to greet him, “Yes, just in town for a quick stop home and to wrap up a few things from my time in Coruscant.”

With his usual graciousness, the older man then insisted Anakin join them.

“Sit down, and let me get you something,” Palpatine said.

With a meaningful look at his wife, he waived off Anakin’s protests and motioning to the seat across from him. Seeing Palpatine’s wife heading off, Anakin slid into her vacated seat.

The detective glanced over and saw she was at the counter placing an order—assumedly to get another cup of coffee for the mayor’s guest.

According to the tact that Padmé had demanded he acquire, Anakin would never admit out loud that with her predilection for wearing fur year round he had always thought Sylmora Palpatine looked more like a mob boss’ mistress than a future First Lady.

Someone clearly agreed with him, however, as on TV her furs were nowhere to be seen. Her hair—previously so short she looked almost bald—had been grown out to a more fashionable pixie cut, and her wardrobe, sunglasses, and jewelry had also undergone a considerable upgrade.

Today, however, the fur was back.

Sylmora shared her politician husband’s memory for small details, and somehow remembered that Anakin took his coffee black. Setting a large cup in front of Anakin, she then wordlessly headed in the direction of the ladies room.

The fact that the drink was in a to-go cup also set Anakin’s mind at ease that Palpatine wasn’t expecting him to stay all afternoon.

“How are you Anakin?” Palpatine asked with fatherly concern.

“Hanging in there,” the younger man replied.

“Yes, I know the feeling,” the Palpatine answered a look of pain coming over his face, “Losing her was . . . unbearable.”

Anakin replied with a tight smile that bordered on being a grimace, and the older man was quick to steer the conversation to a lighter topic.

“So what brings you to the fair city of Naboo?” Palpatine asked.

“Just visiting my kids,” Anakin replied.

“Ah yes . . . the air quality is so much better here than in Coruscant,” Palpatine noted.

At the mayor’s comment about air quality, Anakin palmed the cigarette that would soon be paired with his coffee further up his shirtsleeve.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen them,” Palpatine continued, his expression now more wistful as he reminisced, “They must be school-age by now.”

“They actually start kindergarten on Monday,” Anakin told him.

“Oh marvelous,” Palpatine exclaimed indulgently before adding, “You must bring them to dinner sometime.”

“We’ll have to let you know if we’re ever in Washington,” Anakin replied jovially.

Palpatine’s smile widened.

“Please do . . . and while it was wonderful to run into you, I’m sure you need to get back to Coruscant,” the older man said as he again rose to standing.

“Thank you for the coffee, Mayor,” the younger man replied, as he too rose to his feet.

“I’ll see you again soon, Anakin,” Palpatine responded, his smile shifting subtly.

With the presidential campaign in full swing, Anakin knew that was probably untrue and that the Mayor was just being polite. He responded in kind, however, as the two men shook hands.

“I look forward to it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Obi-Wan crash the ATF sting.

The Mos Eisley Cantina.

Because of course the sting was at the Mos Eisley Cantina.

Anakin _hated_ the Mos Eisley Cantina.

As Obi-Wan would say there wasn’t a more wretched hive of scum and villainy in all of Coruscant.

Frequented by the more moronic class of Coruscant’s criminals—who Anakin felt were utterly beneath his dignity to pursue—the sketchy nightclub boasted tacky décor and floors that either crunched or were sticky enough to grab shoes when anyone tried to walk on them. Beyond that the mostly underage waitresses were so scantily dressed that the establishment boarder on being a strip club.

Like every cop in the precinct, Anakin had quickly come to bemoan that Mos Eisley was in the jurisdiction of the 501st. Beat cops got called in to break up periodic outbreaks of violence several times a shift. Among junior detectives it was an open secret that the best way to rack up collars was to simply grab a booth, bring up a list of outstanding warrants, and wait for the idiots to walk in the door.

It was, therefore, unfortunate that the food was terrible. Anakin vividly remembered getting food poison here from something it should not be possible to get food poisoning from back when he was a rookie and didn’t know any better.

Like every cop in the 501st, Anakin ended up spending way too much time here. And once again here they were—the dynamic duo of Skywalker and Kenobi—spending at least part of their shift drinking Diet Coke at the Mos Eisly Cantina. While Anakin had to admit that the smoking hot singer who was on tonight was actually pretty good, as far as he was concerned the clubs’ only redeeming quality was he could smoke in here.

It also said a lot about the establishment that two police detectives wearing bulletproof vests could simply hang out in a booth, and no one gave it a second thought. Which was good since Obi-Wan had been unsuccessful in getting them assigned to the ATF sting—owing to one of them having a reputation for ‘not playing well with others.’

As he gazed around, Anakin mused that it was just like Lux Bonteri to try and run an operation here.

The detective believed to the core that Lux had prematurely risen through the ranks because his mother was a big shot City Councilwoman. And while Anakin avoided being suitably disciplined for his actions on the basis of his own merit, his ATF counterpart did so on the basis of nepotism. Because regardless of how much chaos Lux caused no one was going to demote Mina Bonteri’s son.

Anakin couldn’t stand him—and that was _before_ Lux began his tempestuous on and off relationship with Ahsoka. Since then Anakin’s dislike for the other man had only skyrocketed, and he was well aware that the feeling was mutual.

As far as he was concerned Lux Bonteri was a reckless diva and Anakin had _no idea_ what Ahsoka saw in him.

The young detective was finally drawn away from his brooding thoughts by his partner.

“How are the twins?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Starting kindergarten on Monday,” Anakin replied.

“They’ve grown up so fast. I can’t believe they’re starting school,” the older detective reminisced.

“No kidding. Getting security sorted out with the administration was a pain, but Rex and Sola worked it out,” Anakin told him before adding, “Thank you again for recommending Rex and Cody’s team by the way. I don’t know anyone else who I would trust with the twin’s lives.”

“My pleasure, Anakin. I only wish I could do more,” Obi-Wan replied with sincerity.

“You and Satine have already done more than I can say,” Anakin assured him, his gratitude coming through in his voice.

The longtime partners then lapsed into companionable silence, and Anakin lit up another cigarette. As he took a long drag, his eyes returned to purposefully scanning the club.

“Anakin, who are you looking for?” a baffled Obi-Wan finally asked.

“Ahsoka!” Anakin replied, irritated at his partner’s obtuseness.

“Anakin . . .” Obi-Wan responded, his tone indicating that it was his partner who was missing the blatantly obvious.

The younger detective’s gaze followed his partner’s sightline towards the main stage . . .

And Anakin’s eyes widened comically as the identity of the voluptuous singer crooning into the microphone suddenly slammed into him.

“What the _hell_?!” Anakin blurted out.

The curving white stripes on her becoming blue dress accented Ahsoka’s own shapeliness. Her hair, which was usually braided to fit under her service cap, was now striking as a natural afro. Her lips were a deep purple, and her heavy eye makeup made her larges eyes appear even more luminous.

_When in the world had_ this _happened?_

Obi-Wan—who Anakin was convinced could actually read his mind—replied with his trademark sardonic look.

“Anakin, I know you’ve known her for practically her whole life—but she’s _twenty-three_.”

No, that wasn’t possible. Ahsoka was seventeen the last time he checked . . . like six years ago.

_Keff._

Anakin’s face flushed a deep red as he recalled his unbiased impression of her when they first walked in—back before he recognized her. Actually, Anakin still wasn’t sure he recognized her.

As a three-sport athlete, Ahsoka had lived in sweat pants and athletic clothing throughout high school, and that hadn’t changed much over the years.

The last time Anakin had seen her in a dress was for prom—although as most of his attention had been focused on towering over her pimply adolescent date and threatening him with bodily harm if he so much as _thought_ about laying a single finger on her, and Anakin could not remember with confidence what color her dress had even been.

What Anakin could recall with perfect clarity as he now gaped openmouthed at her was that she had most definitely not looked like _that_.

By Mos Eisley standards Ahsoka’s dress was quite modest. It still left a lot less to the imagination than her shapeless police uniform, however, and Anakin was completely scandalized for reasons he would prefer not to examine too closely. He didn’t even want to know where her gun was—but from how far the slit in her dress went up her thigh he could make and educated guess.

Whether or not Ahsoka was wearing enough clothes in general was a matter open for debate. What was indisputable, however, was she was not dressed for whatever was about to go down here.

Anakin’s gaze hardened in anger at her lack of any protective gear. Ahsoka was a police officer, and the way she was being deployed was pointless and dangerous. He, like every other cop had make rookie mistakes, but agreeing to come in here without Kevlar had the potential for much more serious consequences than getting food poisoning.

Anakin was just preparing to rise from the table, and insist that she get off the stage and take his bulletproof vest—when it was suddenly too late.

“Police! Nobody move!” a macho voice shouted.

Unsurprisingly, the club instead erupted into pandemonium.

The Trandoshan gang running illegal guns finally realized they had been lured into a trap. Rather than surrender quietly, however, they flipped over the tables—because of course the Mos Eisley Cantina had bulletproof tables—and barricaded themselves into a booth. Believing it would enhance their street cred in prison if they went down in a shootout with the police, they opened fire.

From behind the table he and Obi-Wan had themselves overturned, Anakin searched the club for Ahsoka. With panic welling up in him, he finally spotted her taking partial cover behind the ATM machine.

Exchanging glances, Anakin and Obi-Wan wordlessly planed their next move. In unison the two detectives lifted the table and began making their way to Ahsoka. They had almost reached her when—with his uncanny danger sense—Anakin realized they weren’t going to make it.

Time seemed to slow as the young detective watched one of the goons go down with his finger on the trigger—sending a deadly spray in Ahsoka’s direction.

Anakin, however, had already begun his flying leap in front of her by the time the bullets left the gun—and he felt his vest absorb the bruising rounds. In typical Skywalker fashion the bullets missed hitting him anywhere else, and he landed on the floor unscathed. His sighed of relief caught in his throat, however, as he heard Ahsoka cry out in pain.

A round had gotten pasts him.

Rising from the ground, Anakin saw that Ahsoka was now slumped against the wall clutching her leg—a growing section of her dress turning red.

Anakin was at her side in seconds. Between the bullet holes and the blood, her beautiful dress was already ruined. Anakin wasted no time in using his pocketknife to slice off a long strip of fabric, and secure a makeshift tourniquet—as her exclamations of pain filled his ears.

Obi-Wan had by that time finished dragging the table to provide cover for the three of them as the shooting continued. Finally, the ATF taskforce rushed the Trandoshans’ barricade and ended the standoff.

The damage, however, had already been done.

“Officer down! Call a bus!” Anakin frantically screamed as he leaned his full weight into compressing the gunshot wound, and Ahsoka continued to bleed out.

Thankfully—because it was the Mos Eisley Cantina—the paramedics who were usually waiting nearby were already on the scene.

Ahsoka was quickly lifted onto a gurney and whisked out of the club. Anakin continued to apply pressure to her wound as she was rolled towards the waiting ambulance. Once they loaded her in, however, the paramedics fully took over.

“Anakin!” a near hysterical Ahsoka cried from inside.

“I’ll be right behind you, Snips! You’re going to be alright!” Anakin shouted to her as the doors closed—wishing fervently that simply saying so would make it true.

Obi-Wan had by that time come along side him, and the two of them watched the ambulance speed off. The older detective then turned in the direction of their car.

Anakin did not follow him.

_Well_ almost _right behind you, Snips . . . There’s just one quick thing I need to take care of first._

“Anakin . . . ” Obi-Wan warned, seeing the murderous look in his partner’s eyes.

Anakin ignored him. Setting a pace that required Obi-Wan to jog to keep up with him, he marched straight over to where the ATF agents were loading the Trandoshan gang into the back of waiting police vans.

“Bonteri!” Anakin yelled.

A small group of officers looked up from there they were celebrating their ‘win.’

“Oh look it’s the ‘Hero with No Fear,’” one of the agents commented his voice dripping with derision.

Anakin, however, ignored them all and walked straight up to Lux.

Not bothering with insults or preamble . . . he soundly decked the other man.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan cried.

The other ATF agents quickly jumped in and restrained the furious detective.

“What the _keff,_ Skywalker?!” Lux exclaimed holding his face.

“That’s for getting Ahsoka shot,” Anakin informed him.

“Ahsoka got shot?” Lux responded, his voice now somber and filled with concern.

“What did you think was going to happen when you put her in there without any gear?!” Anakin screamed, shrugging off the ATF agents who had loosened their grip at his words.

“Is she okay?” Lux asked.

“She almost died!” Anakin yelled, pointing to the holes in his shirt and the bullets visible in his vest.

“I need to get to the hospital,” Lux said his face growing pale.

He made a move towards one of the waiting SUVs, but Anakin stopped him with a hand on his chest.

Towering over Lux, Anakin pointed a threatening finger in his face.

“No—what you need to do is stay away from her!” the detective menaced.

With that Anakin turned on his heals and rushed back to the black TIE Charger. Barely waiting for Obi-Wan to climb into the passenger seat, Anakin flipped on the flashing lights and siren, and burned off towards the hospital. At the speed he was going, Anakin fully expected Obi-Wan’s usual backseat driving to come out in full force.

With Obi-Wan failing to perceive that one of the reasons the younger detective had joined the force in the first place was so he could periodically drive the standard police muscle car at his preferred speed, Anakin’s driving was a frequent source of contention between the partners.

“Slow down Anakin!” Obi-Wan was quick to lecture him in the middle of a high-speed chase.

“We’re the police chasing a bad guy Obi-Wan! I still can’t believe how much you hate driving!” Anakin would reply.

“I don’t mind driving—but what you’re doing is suicide!” his partner would predictably shoot back.

Tonight, however, Obi-Wan was silent.

To Anakin it was further confirmation that the evening had been a disaster in more ways than he could count.

Once they arrived, the two detectives burst into the Emergency Department of Coruscant General—to be told that Ahsoka was already in surgery.

Someone transferred custody of her service weapon and shield to Anakin. As he gazed down at them in his hands, it was hard for Anakin not to fear that was all of Ahsoka he would be left with, and the thought of losing any more members of his family was unbearable.

Obi-Wan thought Anakin might pace a hole in the floor of the surgery waiting room, but from where he was slumped in a chair he did not bother trying to get his partner to sit down.

A surgeon soon came out into the waiting room and headed towards them. Anakin knew from his mother’s surgery, that if a doctor came out too early it was usually with bad news. That the ‘I’m sorry we did everything we could but . . .’ conversation was coming.

This surgeon, however, was smiling.

“Detectives Skywalker and Kenobi?” she asked.

Anakin stopped pacing and Obi-Wan rose to his feet.

“Officer Tano will be just fine,” the surgeon told them, “It was a clean shot in and out. It didn’t hit any major arteries and we were able to quickly stop the bleeding.”

“When can we see her?” Anakin quickly asked, as relief flooded him.

“She’s in recovery and I can have someone let you know as soon as she wakes up,” she answered.

“We’ll wait,” Anakin replied, finally taking a seat.

“No . . . now we are going back to the emergency department,” Obi-Wan corrected him.

With a gentle tug on Anakin’s upper arm, the older detective got his partner back on his feet and began steering him in the required direction. As the adrenaline rush subsided, Anakin had to admit that now that he thought about it his chest did kind of hurt.

Assured that he had not lost Ahsoka, Anakin indulged his partner’s worries for his wellbeing and allowed the doctors to check him out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get back to normal . . . sort of.

“Skywalker!” boomed Captain Windu, “My office, _now_.”

It was unusual for Anakin _not_ to get yelled at for something on a Monday, and after an emotional roller-coaster of a weekend he felted steadied by the return to normalcy.

“So . . . you punched an ATF agent in the face after a raid on Saturday. Care to waste my time trying to explain yourself?” the detective’s long-suffering superior cut to the chase.

“Captain, Agent Bonteri’s irresponsibly with Officer Tano’s safety got her shot and nearly killed,” Anakin insistently replied.

“Well at this point it should come as no surprise that you’re still suspended!” Captain Windu informed his problem child.

“Yes sir . . . although . . . I did take several slugs to the vest and suffered extensive bruising,” Anakin noted.

“Fine. Medical leave,” Captain Windu glared at him, “Either way I don’t want to see you anywhere near this precinct giving me heartburn for the next two week.”

“Understood. Thank you sir.” Anakin replied, beaming as he strode out of the office.

Reentering the detective’s bullpen with a spring in his step, Anakin reached his desk and began packing up to leave.

From his much neater adjacent desk, Obi-Wan eyed him.

“Let me guess—you’re suspended _again_ ,” his partner said, not bothering to make it a question.

“Actually, medical leave owing to the Captain’s indigestion,” Anakin gleefully corrected him. “I’m off to the hospital to check on Ahsoka.”

Having slipped on his jacket and thrown the strap of his bag over one shoulder, Anakin delayed his exit only long enough to dump a stack of mind-numbly tedious paperwork onto Obi-Wan’s desk.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan loudly protested.

His partner, however, was already on the move.

“Thanks Obi-Wan!” Anakin called over his shoulder as he bolted out of the building.

\------------------------------

As he walked past the hospital’s joint flower and gift shop, Anakin halted his steps. Realizing he should probably get Ahsoka something he entered and looked around.

Before this weekend he would have grabbed the pink bear holding a heart with ‘Get Well Soon’ embroidered on it without a second thought. But after Saturday night the stuffed animal now felt outdated. As his eyes repeatedly scanned the shop in a desperate search for inspiration, Anakin realized he had absolutely no idea what to get Ahsoka.

The girl behind the counter’s nose ring shifted oddly as her nostrils flared in irritation at his indecisiveness. After another minute, Anakin finally decided to go with an arrangement of ‘Sorry You Got Shot’ sunflowers in a simple but elegant vase.

It had been a while since he had bought flowers, and Anakin made sure to hold them securely as he continued on to Ahsoka’s hospital room. Once outside, he knocked before cracking the door.

“Snips?” he called.

“Come in Anakin,” Ahsoka replied, to his relief sounding much more like herself than the last time he saw her.

Dressed in loose fitting sweatpants and an athletic top, she also looked more like herself as well.

As he stepped into the room, Anakin saw that although she was now on crutches Ahsoka was moving around the room with surprising ease.

Looking up to great him, her eyes shown when she saw the flowers, and Anakin was very glad he had not robotically gone with the stuffed bear.

“I got these for you,” Anakin said unnecessarily.

“Thank you, they’re beautiful,” she told him with a wide smile.

Anakin refrained from actually given them to her, however, as she appeared to be packing up her stuff. A wheelchair parked on one side of her bed also now caught his attention.

“I was just going to text you that I got discharged,” Ahsoka announced happily.

“Oh, you should have let me know sooner so you wouldn’t have had to wait for me to come pick you up,” Anakin replied.

“Well, I actually have another ride . . .” Ahsoka told him a bit sheepishly.

As if on cue, someone else knocked.

Anakin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he walked towards the door—and his dark premonitions were validated when he opened it.

“Skywalker?!” Lux said, looking startled—the black eye he was now sporting matching the black leather jacket he thought made him look cool.

Without so much as a word, Anakin slammed the door in Lux’s face.

“Anakin!” Ahsoka exclaimed.

“No—absolutely not—I forbid it!” Anakin forcefully declared.

“You _forbid_ it?!” she replied with irritated incredulity.

Although balancing on crutches, Ahsoka somehow still managed to cross her arms over her chest as she glared up at him.

Anakin, however, glowered back down at her with equal intensity.

No matter how blasé he was about following protocol or his own wellbeing, Anakin was never careless with his fellow officer’s safety—especially Ahsoka’s. As absolutely furious as he was with Lux for carelessly getting her hurt, Anakin’s anger with Ahsoka for perpetuating this insane situation was rapidly eclipsing it.

“He just got you shot and nearly killed, Ahsoka! You are _not_ getting back together with him for the _fifth_ _time_!” Anakin bellowed.

“He’s just helping me because he feels bad about that. He’s giving me a ride home and helping me recover—we are not getting back together,” Ahsoka replied, her words having a distinctly hollow ring to them.

“That is _exactly_ what’s going to happen!” Anakin yelled.

“Well how do expect me to get around alone. And I can’t change my dressings by myself!” she argued in exasperation.

Anakin was suddenly treated to the unwelcome mental image of Lux Bonteri attending to Ahsoka’s upper thigh wound.

“ _No_ ,” he emphatically declared.

“Well what am I supposed to do? Get _you_ to do it?!” Ahsoka asked clearly as a rhetorical question.

“Better me the him,” Anakin shot back, “And I have the next two weeks off.”

“Anakin, did you get suspended _again_?!” she demanded.

Anakin, however, refused to let her change the subject.

“No—in spite of your _ex_ -boyfriend’s best efforts—I’m on medical leave for the extensive bruising I got taking bullets to the vest that would have gone straight through you!” he replied.

Ahsoka finally did not have a response for that one and remained silent.

“So unless you want me carrying you out of here, get in the wheelchair right now—we’re leaving,” Anakin continued.

Silently Ahsoka complied.

After sitting down in the wheelchair, she adjusted her crutches so they were balanced on one foot pedal with her right arm. That left her other one free, and Anakin shoved the vase of sunflowers he’d bought her into it.

Slinging her bags over his shoulders, Anakin began wheeling her towards the door. He had not made it two steps, however, when a nurse came in with the wound care supplies Ahsoka needed to make it to her follow up appointment.

“This must be your boyfriend who’s helping you!” the nurse said with a wide smile.

Anakin wordlessly took the bag of supplies. He then turned to glare down at Ahsoka, who flatly refused to meet his eye as he resumed pushing her towards the door.

Once out in the hallway, Anakin was disappointed but not surprised to find Lux still standing stupidly outside of the hospital room.

“So this is finally how it is,” Lux said looking between Anakin and Ahsoka.

Out of the corner of his eye Anakin caught a panicked expression flash across Ahsoka’s face.

“Bontari, I don’t know what the keff you’re talking about, but you need to both grow up and go to hell,” Anakin snarled, “And unless you are looking to get run over so you can whine to your overlords in one of your immature attempts to get me suspended you also need to get out of the way!”

With a glance at Ahsoka, who wasn’t looking at him either, Lux stepped aside.

Leaving the nurses all confused as to which of the men making a scene in the hallway was actually Ahsoka’s boyfriend, Anakin unceremoniously wheeled her off the unit and out of the hospital.

\------------------------------

Ahsoka’s current apartment was a small walk up near the 501st. With the assistance of her crutches, she made slow upward progress one step at a time. Anakin followed behind with the bags, intent on breaking her fall should she lose her balance. At last they reached the fourth floor and entered Ahsoka’s apartment. Anakin followed her inside, and set the flowers down on the counter and everything else on the couch.

“Hey Snips, do you mind if I give the twins a quick call? It was their first day of kindergarten,” he asked.

“Of course not. I’m just going to go change,” Ahsoka told him before disappearing into her bedroom.

As his phone dialed, Anakin raised it to his ear. Sola picked up on the second ring, and brother and sister-in-law exchanged pleasantries.

“Kids, you’re father’s on the phone!” Sola then announced in a happy voice.

In the background Anakin heard Leia angrily declare, “I’m not talking to Daddy unless he’s _here_!”

His heart constricted in his chest.

“Here’s Luke,” Sola sighed.

“Hi Dad,” his son said glumly.

“Hey buddy. How was your first day at school?!” Anakin said with forced cheerfulness.

“It was okay, I guess,” Luke told him.

Anakin remembered how much both of the twins loved learning—back when their mother was alive. Luke’s current lack of enthusiasm made Anakin’s heart sink a little further.

“Did anything interesting happen?” Anakin coaxed.

“One of the teachers got mad,” Luke replied. “She didn’t like Uncle Rex being near the playground at recess. She made him leave.”

At his son’s report Anakin found his pulse abruptly speeding up, and he asked Luke to put Sola back on.

“Luke said the recess teacher made Rex leave? I thought everything was worked out with school,” Anakin said, trying unsuccessfully to keep a note of panic out of his voice.

“I know. Rex and I spoke to the principal, and she said the problem was with a specific teacher. She assured us the situation would be dealt with and would never happen again,” Sola relayed.

_It better not._

Anakin bit his tongue to stop himself from verbalizing lashing out at Padmé’s sister to whom he owed a debt he could never repay.

“Thank you, Sola,” Anakin said instead.

“No problem,” she replied.

He then heard Sola moving to a different part of the house, and deliberately lowering her voice, “Things with the twins are getting worse, Anakin. Is there any chance you’ll be able to get back up here soon?”

Anakin sighed.

“Ahsoka got shot over the weekend—she’s fine thank goodness—but she just got out of the hospital and needs some help. Depending on how she’s doing, I’ll see if I can get back up this weekend if not sooner,” he told his sister-in-law.

“That would be really good,” Sola told him.

“Please tell them I love them,” Anakin said.

“Will do,” she assured him before ending the call.

For a few seconds Anakin just stared at his phone with a heavy heart.

But then he pulled himself together. There was nothing else he could do for his children tonight. His surroundings recalled him to the fact he was supposed to be helping Ahsoka and not be consumed with his own problems.

Lux Bonteri, after all, would likely have been quite attentive, Anakin reminded himself with a scowl.

“How are the twins?” Ahsoka asked, as she reemerged in fresh clothes.

“Not great actually. Want to come to Naboo this weekend if you’re feeling up to it?” he replied.

“I’d love to,” Ahsoka responded with a radiant smile.

“Great! And I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry,” Anakin said.

“Me too. There’s a menu for a decent Chinese place on the fridge, unless you want something else,” she told him.

“No Chinese sounds good,” Anakin replied as he walked over to the fridge.

Anakin quickly found the menu and was just going to dial, when he realized he probably shouldn’t just assume she liked the same things she had in high school.

“Do you still like Beef Broccoli and Cashew Chicken?” he asked her.

“Yep,” Ahsoka called from the couch.

As he placed the order, Anakin felt grateful that at least some things about Ahsoka hadn’t changed.

Grabbing his workbag, he then sat down on the couch next to her. He quickly found his other gifts, and held them out. Ahsoka smiled as she saw what he was holding—her police shield and service weapon, which she could tell he had carefully cleaned.

“I took care of them. They’re good as new . . . maybe a little better,” Anakin said, flashing her his trademark cocky grin.

For a moment they both held her badge and gun, and just smiled at each other.

However, the air between them eventually grew a bit thick, and was suddenly charged with an awkwardness that had never been there before.

Anakin finally broke eye contact and coughed a little, and Ahsoka set her service weapon and shield on the coffee table.

Toeing off their shoes, they both kicked their feet up. Ahsoka grabbed her remote and flipped on her TV. She quickly found a cheesy movie to stream that they had loved ad-libbing with their own dialogue when they were growing up. The food arrived not long after that and quickly disappeared.

As the credits scrolled across the screen, Anakin looked over at Ahsoka. Two thirds of the way through the movie she had nodded off, and her head was now lolled onto his shoulder. Her mouth was parted slightly in sleep, and a section of her hair had fallen into her face. Anakin resisted the sudden urge to reach up and tuck the lock behind her ear.

With the reality of how close he had come to losing her still fresh on his mind, Anakin gazed down at the face that was so dear to him—realizing with a pang that he had long taken it for granted that she would always be there.

And just how badly he had taken _her_ for granted.

After finishing college, Anakin had joined the police, married Padmé, and taken life by storm. While she remained vitally important, he had to admit that during that time Ahsoka had faded into the background tapestry of his life.

Anakin had been awoken to just how short life could be by his wife’s untimely death, however, and over the last few years had made an effort to repair the damage his negligence had done to his relationship with Ahsoka. Even after getting her assigned to the 501st and treating her to breakfast on a regular basis, Anakin had to admit it still really wasn’t enough.

All he could do about that tonight, however, was to do his best to take care of her while she recovered.

After gently rousing her, Anakin brought Ahsoka her painkillers and antibiotics while she sleepily brushed her teeth. He then helped her climb into bed and bid her goodnight.

“Do you need anything else, Snips?” he asked from the doorway.

“No, I’m good,” she answered, appearing to already be drifting back to sleep.

Anakin shut off the light, but left the door partway open so he could hear her calling if she needed anything.

No sooner had he sat back down onto the sofa to settle in for the night and closed his eyes than Ahsoka’s voice reached him.

“Um, Anakin-” she called somewhat hesitantly.

“No Ahsoka, I’m not going to smoke in your apartment,” he said with a sigh.

“I was just going to say ‘thank you,’” she told him.

“Oh . . . you’re welcome,” Anakin replied.

“And thank you for not smoking in my apartment,” Ahsoka added.

With a smile on his face, Anakin closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seismic shifts all around.

Anakin awoke the next morning to find sunlight pouring onto his face and a massive crink in his neck. Raising his watch to eye level, he was also surprised to see it was not actually still morning.

Forcing his legs to stand up, Anakin wandered into the kitchen intent on making coffee. Soon the life sustaining liquid began dripping into the waiting pot. As he stretched his protesting muscles, Anakin reflected that as much as he wanted to be there for Ahsoka he didn’t fancy spending anymore nights trying to sleep on her rather small couch.

The coffee was nearly done when Anakin heard sounds of movement emanating from Ahsoka’s bedroom signaling that she too was awake.

“Morning Ahsoka,” Anakin called, “How are you feeling?”

“Hey Anakin,” she replied groggily, “Kind of sore actually.”

“Do you want me to bring you your pain meds?” he asked.

“No, I’ll come out,” Ahsoka told him.

“Well, coffee’s almost ready,” Anakin said.

“Oh thank goodness,” she exclaimed, as she emerging from her bedroom with the assistance of her crutches.

Ahsoka made her way to the kitchen and sat down at a high stool on the other side of the outjutting counter. Anakin handed her two prescription bottles along with a glass of water. He then poured her a cup of steaming coffee. Anakin was well aware that she liked cream and sugar, and as he went in search of her preferred additives he pitched her his idea.

“Hey Snip, what would think about spending a few days at Satine and Obi-Wan’s? They have quite the array of guestrooms, an elevator-” Anakin began, and as he opened her refrigerator and pursued its paltry contents added, “-and food.”

“That sounds like fun. I’ve never been there before!” Ahsoka replied.

Anakin felt simultaneously relieved at her enthusiasm and also a little guilty that he had not thought to invite her over before now.

Although he was getting hungry, Anakin also decided to make do with coffee and leave the single edible item in the apartment—a slightly mushy apple—for Ahsoka so she wouldn’t be taking painkillers and antibiotics on an empty stomach.

While she excitedly then went off to pack, Anakin washed the mugs and gave their hosts a quick call. As he knew would be the case, both Satine and Obi-Wan thought it was an excellent idea, and soon Anakin was carrying even more bags down the stairs than he had carried up the previous day with Ahsoka carefully following behind.

For her part, Ahsoka was much more accustomed to Anakin’s driving than Obi-Wan, and did not protest him weaving in and out of Coruscant’s infamous traffic at a speed it should not have been possible. Even without police sirens they arrived at Satine’s building much more quickly than they should have.

With the car parked, the pair made their way toward the penthouse’s private elevator. Anakin was eager to give Ahsoka the grand tour, and after depositing her bags in the guestroom across the hall from his, he did just that—especially excited to show her the spectacular view.

“Wow!” Ahsoka exclaimed as she looked out over the Coruscant skyline.

“I know right!” Anakin agreed, smiling at her reaction to the view he’d come to love.

As promised the penthouse had a refrigerator full of food that Satine’s personal chef had left for their consumption. By that point they were both starving and quickly dug in.

Still recovering, Ahsoka then went back to sleep. Anakin seized the opportunity to get a nicotine fix.

The younger detective then lamented it was no longer possible to successfully fob his paperwork off on his partner when he was actually living with him. With a sigh, Anakin resigned himself to a boring afternoon of working on his case reports, which Obi-Wan had thoughtfully brought home to ‘keep him occupied.’

By the time Anakin was ready to either gouge his eyes out with his fingernails or stop for the day, Ahsoka had woken up it was time for dinner. Reopening the refrigerator Anakin again perused the gourmet contents, and read off some of the labels to her.

“Is there anymore of what we had for lunch left?” Ahsoka asked.

“Actually there is,” he informed her, well accustomed to Ahsoka’s tendency to find something she liked and stick with it through thick and thin.

Letting her have the rest of the dish she wanted, Anakin chose a different one for himself.

“By the way, Obi-Wan and Satine have some charity thing tonight and won’t be home until late,” Anakin told her as he transferred the food onto plates and stuck them in the microwave.

“Yeah, Satine sent me a text to say she was ‘sorry she wasn’t here to welcome me,’” Ahsoka told him.

To Anakin that sounded like Satine. The woman exuded graciousness and class from every pore in her body.

They ate mostly in companionable silence, which Anakin finally broke as he stuck their empty plates in the dishwasher.

“Anything you want to do tonight, Snips?” he asked.

“Um, actually what I’d really like is to wash my hair. It still feels so gross,” Ahsoka told him.

Of course she would want to wash her hair after lying on the ground at the Mos Eisley Cantina. And since she wasn’t allowed to shower for another day the best way to do that would be in the kitchen sink. But since she still couldn’t comfortable put full weight on her injured leg, she would most likely need him to help her . . .

Anakin gulped.

He recalled a bit too vividly that Padmé’s long hair had been one of their ‘things.’ While he certainly wasn’t going say anything, the fact remained that helping Ahsoka wash her hair was going to get pretty weird for him.

Anakin had melodramatically pledged his assistance, however, and there was really no other option than to suck it up.

After all, Lux Bonteri would have agreed to her reasonable request without hesitation.

“Of course, Snips,” Anakin said in as even tone as he could muster.

Soon there was a stack of towels on the counter, and Ahsoka was somewhat awkwardly leaning her head under the facet. Oblivious to the uncomfortable position she was having to maintain, she sighed contentedly as Anakin washed suds out of her hair and scalp.

Ahsoka’s hair was different than Padmé’s, but for Anakin it felt no less nice to run his fingers through it. The shampoo also smelled like ‘Ahsoka,’ which in some ways was an even more familiar scent than anything associated with his late wife.

Recalling Lux’s parting shot in the hospital, Anakin had to admit that—okay—maybe he did actually know what Lux had been insinuating.

But that was utterly ridiculous.

Ahsoka was like his little sister.

He’d known her forever.

And she was his only five years younger than him not actually his sister.

Finally Ahsoka’s hair was clean . . . which meant it was now time to take care of her dressing change.

In the heat of the moment Anakin had been rather caviler about offering to tend to her upper thigh wound. He was currently torn between regretting his rashly spoken words and standing by his insistence that it was ‘better him than Lux Bonteri.’

The reality that there was no good way to do this also quickly became apparent.

Anakin decided what would cause the least amount of awkwardness was for Ahsoka to sit on the edge of the couch with him to the outside. As he kneeled before her, however, Anakin was loath to admit the intensity of his new awareness that Ahsoka was no longer seventeen and he was no longer married.

He was just beginning to be believe he could get through this with a firm grasp on his composure when it then occurred to his overly taxed brain that she would have to take her sweatpants off for him to actually access the dressing that needed to be changed.

Fearing the worst, Anakin was relieved to find that Ahsoka was wearing more than underwear beneath her sweatpants—although her shorts were still pretty skimpy. Under the circumstance, however, Anakin would take every centimeter of fabric covering her legs that he could get.

Glancing up at her face for the first time in a while Anakin saw that Ahsoka was worrying her lip nervously. It recalled his attention from the shapeliness of her bare legs to the fact she had a _gunshot wound_.

“How many times have you been shot again?” Ahsoka asked.

“Twice. It hurt like keff, and I cried both times. Getting the dressing changed was miserable, but wasn’t as bad once I got out of the hospital,” Anakin told her sympathetically before adding, “Just hold onto my shoulders and take deep breaths.”

Somewhat hypocritically, Anakin held his own breath as he attempted to strike a balance between speed and carefully avoiding touching her skin. Mercifully the task was soon complete.

“Well Snips, the good news is it doesn’t look infected—and you’re going to have a really cool scar,” Anakin told her to lighten the mood.

“Good to know,” Ahsoka replied with her trademark smirk.

Anakin went off to get a glass of water and her medication, more to avoid unconsciously gawking at her while she redressed than he really wanted to acknowledge.

They spent the rest of the evening watching another mindless movie before turning in.

“Thanks Anakin,” Ahsoka said from the doorway of her bedroom.

“Of course, Snips. I’m glad you’re starting to feel better,” Anakin told her.

With a smile she disappeared into the room that he suddenly wished was another fifty feet away from his. Anakin closed his own door behind him . . . before faceplanting onto the bed and yelling in frustration into his pillow that one of the few consistent things he had left in his life had abruptly turned on its axis.

\------------------------------

Back in what had become his own bed sometime over the last two years, Anakin was unsurprised that he once more found himself wide-awake at 3 AM. Remembering he was not alone on this side of the penthouse, he crept out of his room more quietly than usual and also left the hall light off as he made his way to the living room.

Having Ahsoka hobble out onto the balcony in the middle of the night to snatch his cigarette out of nowhere was the kind of thing that would totally happen to him, and Anakin save himself the mortification by skipping straight to the evidence boxes. After laying everything out on the table, he proceeded to go through the evidence piece by piece.

Anakin did not know how long he had been staring unseeingly at the papers strewn across the table, when he heard the sound of crutches on the floor.

“Hey Snips,” he called tiredly, “You need anything?”

“No, just can’t sleep,” Ahsoka replied.

“Me neither,” he told her.

Sidling up beside him, she took in his organized chaos.

“So this is what you do?” Ahsoka asked.

“This is what I do,” Anakin replied, unable to keep the weariness out of his voice.

For a moment neither of them spoke, and Ahsoka’s intelligent eyes scanned his chart.

“I thought ‘Pre Vizsla’ was the leader of Death Watch,” she commented.

“Up until a few months ago, yeah. Word on the street is they made a bad deal with Maul. Vizsla paid for the misstep with his life, and Bo-Katan took over. It seems to have taken Death Watch down a peg, which is good for Satine,” he replied, and they both stared down at the redhead with an arrogant smile whose picture now covered that of her predecessor.

Ahsoka’s eyes traveled further up the chart.

“Is that Sidious’ ‘S’ that got Padmé killed?” she then asked.

“Yes,” Anakin replied darkly.

Ahsoka’s eyes continued to roam over the table.

“See anything?” Anakin asked with a note of hopefulness audible in his voice.

She looked over the sea of paperwork for another few heartbeats before unsurprisingly answering, “No.”

Ahsoka uncovering a clue in a few minutes of looking at evidence he had spent hours poring over had been the longest of long shots. Anakin, however, still felt defeated.

He aggressively packed everything back into the waiting boxes, which he carried back into the living room and shoved into their respective corner. He then sank to the couch with his head in his hands.

Anakin heard Ahsoka follow him into the room, and felt the couch dip as she sat down next to him.

“Hey, you’ll figure it out,” she said encouragingly as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It was what he’d told himself every day for two years. But in the wee hours of the morning he let the mystique and bravado of ‘Anakin Skywalker’ drop and admitted the harsh truth.

“I’m really stuck, Snips,” Anakin choked out.

Ahsoka soothingly rubbed his back as sobs began to wrack him. His tears did not slow down, and she moved to wrap both her arms around him. Returning her embrace, Anakin buried his face into her shoulder and accepted her comfort.

After what felt like an eternity he finally stopped crying. Lifting his head, Anakin found his face was now quite close to Ahsoka’s.

The two lamps on either side of the couch were the only lights on in the room, and they cast a warm glow onto her familiar features. Anakin’s eye’s involuntarily glanced down at her lips. He moved towards her a fraction before coming back to his senses and pulling away.

And as he did so, Ahsoka’s face crumbled.

Pushing off of him, she hastily rose from the couch and without bothering to grab her crutches staggered onto the balcony.

Anakin pursued her, a sense of anxiety and dread suddenly welling up in him.

“Ahsoka, I’m sorry!” he stammered.

He was not sure if he was apologizing for almost kissing her or not going through with it—all he knew was that something truly catastrophic had just happened.

Ahsoka was leaning heavily on the outer railing with her gaze firmly fixed on the Coruscant nightscape.

“You know what. I can’t do this anymore,” she said, still refusing to look at him.

“Lux isn’t the reason we keep breaking up Anakin . . . you are,” Ahsoka continued, “I’ve had a crush on you my whole life. Then you married Padmé and I-I had to deal with that. And when she died I was sad—but I also thought maybe just maybe you might start to see me differently some day.”

Finally she turned back to him, and Anakin saw a look of deep sorrow come over her as tears streamed down her face. His heart clenched in his chest as he realized he’d never seen her look so sad before.

“But I know deep down what I’ve always known—that that’s never going to happen,” Ahsoka choked out.

Her next words were perhaps the greatest testament to how much she had grown up—and they froze Anakin’s blood in his veins.

“And I need to learn to make my own way . . . without you,” Ahsoka told him, a tone of steely resolve coming into her voice even as her tears continued, “I’m going home in the morning and putting in for a transfer.”

Timing had never been Anakin’s strong suit. A few days ago he would have been stunned, confused, and felt powerless to stop Ahsoka from walking out of his life—unaware until it was far too late that she would take his future with her.

But by the grace of God, Anakin for once wasn’t lagging behind.

“Or-” he began as he ran a hand awkwardly through his hair, “-you can let me say that I finally do see you differently . . . and be with me instead.”

A look of hopeful disbelief flashed across Ahsoka’s face before settling back into resigned melancholy.

“How do I know that you aren’t just saying that to get me to stay?” she asked accusingly.

Anakin’s eyes darted around the balcony as he searched for a convincing enough gesture.

“Well, what if I quit smoking like I did for Padmé?” Anakin proposed.

Although her checks were still tearstained, Ahsoka began to laugh merrily, and the knot in Anakin’s chest unclenched as he saw his offer had been accepted.

Disaster averted, a smile returned to Anakin’s face. He slowly approached her, and raised a hand to caress her cheek. Emboldened by the certainty that it was what she actually wanted, he again lowered his face towards hers.

And as their lips met for the first of what would hopefully be many kisses, Anakin was very glad he had brushed his teeth since what would be his last cigarette.

\------------------------------

For the second day in a row, Anakin awoke to sunlight shining squarely in his face. He squinted as he looked around, his initial confusion giving way to the memory of falling asleep on one of Satine’s posh deckchairs early that morning.

As he lowered his gaze to where Ahsoka was still fast asleep with her head on his chest, Anakin was also happy to recall that something good had finally come out of all the tragedy of the last few years.

Although he would have been content to watch her peacefully sleep for a lot longer, Ahsoka began to stir.

“Morning,” Anakin said, as he smiled down at her warmly.

“Hi,” Ahsoka said, returning his smile.

As she fully took in their surroundings, she too squinted at the sunlight.

“Although it’s probably not still ‘morning,’” Ahsoka noted.

Given how late they had woken up yesterday, Anakin did not have to look at his watch to agree with her.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bright out here. Ready to go inside?” he asked.

Receiving her answering nod, Anakin managed to rise to standing with the crutch-less Ahsoka in his arms, and carried her through the sliding French doors back into the penthouse. Depositing her carefully onto the couch with another kiss, Anakin broke away with reluctance and headed to the kitchen.

Obi-Wan and Satine had come and gone, and their housekeeper and chef were likely out running errands.

Anakin knew without having to ask that given the choice Ahsoka would prefer scrambled eggs for breakfast. After pulling out a frying pan and the necessary ingredients, Anakin went about whipping some up. Soon they were done and he transferred them to a pair of plates.

He emerged from the kitchen with breakfast to see Ahsoka was flipping through Padmé’s yearbook, which he had left on the end table next to the couch.

She was in the back section where—at least at their high school—mostly the girls wrote cutesy notes to each other that were meaningless in a matter of months. Anakin didn’t know why she was bothering, other than he recalled that in one of her more girly traits Ahsoka had been completely obsessed with her handwriting as an adolescent.

Anakin also remembered Ahsoka vehemently insisting that he sign her yearbook. He had rolled his eyes and written something stupid to placate her.

“I know it’s some old family name, but I still think it’s weird that Mayor Palpatine’s first name is ‘Sheev,’” Ahsoka commented absent-mindedly.

Anakin had gone back into the kitchen, and was now setting two steaming mugs of coffee down on the table.

“It is pretty unusual . . . what brought that to mind?” Anakin replied, a bit puzzled.

“Because he signed Padmé’s yearbook. It’s right here, ‘Padmé, to your long and prosperous life. -Sheev’”

Her face abruptly paled.

“Anakin . . .”

At the tone of her voice, Anakin rushed over and looked to where Ahsoka was pointing.

To the distinctively familiar ‘S’ in ‘Sheev.’

Anakin swore.

He grabbed his phone intent on warning Rex.

His phone, however, began ringing in his hand.

And Anakin’s heart leapt into his throat as he saw Rex was already calling him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine makes his move on the Skywalkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry to keep you all hanging. Life went a little sideways.

Anakin answered the ringing phone, and with trembling hands raised it to his ear.

“Sir, there’s no easy way to say this-” Rex began.

Even though Anakin knew exactly what was coming the words still sent his stomach dropping like a stone as they left Rex’s mouth.

“The twins have been taken,” Rex said, he voice hollow with failure, “Snatched off the playground at recess. The crew was efficient—they shot Echo and the teacher—the rest of us couldn’t get there in time.”

“Find them, Rex!” Anakin cried, “I don’t care what you have to do—just find them!”

“Yes, sir!” Rex replied crisply.

As their conversation ended, however, Anakin’s phone began buzzing with another incoming call from the apartment building’s reception desk.

“Sir, there are some gentlemen here with a package for you,” the security officer said. From the tone of his voice Anakin could tell there was a lot the other man wasn’t saying.

“Please have the doorman bring it up—alone,” Anakin replied, already knowing the parcel’s likely contents and seeking to buy all the time he could.

“Anakin, what’s going on?!” Ahsoka demanded the second he hung up.

“Palpatine has the twins,” Anakin told her.

“Oh Anakin!” she cried, “Should we go to Naboo?”

“No . . . Whoever grabbed them is bringing them to Coruscant,” he replied.

Aware they only had minutes to spare, the detective swung into action.

Whipping out his phone, Anakin took a picture of Palpatine’s handwritten note in Padmé’s yearbook, and then pulled out the evidence box and quickly snapped one of the ‘S.’ He then texted both to Ahsoka, all the while bringing her up to speed.

“Listen to me, Ahsoka. This is what’s going to happen,” Anakin said his voice full of urgency, “Palpatine’s men are downstairs. They’re here for me and all of Padmé’s stuff—specifically the yearbook. They’re going to drive me around for the next three hours until the twins get here—and likely split them up for more leverage.”

Ahsoka was horrified, but to Anakin’s relief she listened intently without interrupting.

“Once I’m gone get ahold of Rex,” Anakin added as he sent her the soldier’s contact info—before deleting the whole text chain from his end—and adding, “You have to help him get the twins back before they get here. I’ll try to keep my cell so you can track me with ‘Find My Phone’-”

Grateful they had known each other’s passwords by heart since they first got online, Anakin set his phone on silent as he raced onto the balcony. Grabbing his box of cigarettes, he quickly emptied the contents into one of the planters before returning to Ahsoka. His cellphone was an older model and was thankfully just small enough to fit into the empty cigarette box. Although the top would not go down all the way, if he kept it in his shirt pocket Anakin was hopeful it would pass undetected.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Anakin opened it to reveal the doorman with a small box. Inside was a burner phone . . . with a waiting text message.

_Don’t worry, you will see your children again. If you would like them to be alive then bring all of your wife’s personal and professional effects with the movers provided for your convenience, and await further instructions. If you involve the police, I will know._

“Send them up,” Anakin told the doorman as he flashed Ahsoka a look at the sicken message.

“Palpatine’s goons are on their way up—you need to hide in Obi-Wan and Satine’s bedroom until we’re gone,” Anakin said, pointing her in the right direction and feeling extremely grateful the housekeeper was out.

While Ahsoka began making her way there on her crutches, Anakin called after her.

“And Ahsoka, you have to promise me you won’t call Obi-Wan until you have the twins,” Anakin the forcefully exclaimed, “If you do Palpatine will know-”

“How Anakin, how could he possibly know if we involve the police?” Ahsoka argued, her panic rapidly escalating.

“Because as Mayor of Coruscant—he _is_ the police!” Anakin shot back.

Grabbing the evidence box and Padmé’s yearbook, Anakin sprinted ahead of her. Once the items were stashed in his friends’ bedroom, he cleared away the second plate and cup of coffee as he ran to guestroom Ahsoka had been using. He quickly made the bed and shoved all of her stuff back into her bags, making sure not to forget the bathroom.

By the time he returned Ahsoka had made it to Obi-Wan and Satine’s room. Dropping her stuff down, Anakin handed her her service weapon.

“Lock the door,” he instructed.

He made to leave but Ahsoka grabbed his shirt.

“Anakin . . . Anakin, I don’t want to lose you!” Ahsoka cried desperately.

“You’re not going to lose me, Snips,” Anakin reassured her as he caressed her face.

Cupping Ahsoka’s face in his hands, he leaned down and kissed her—but broke away after too short a time for both of them.

“I love you,” he told her.

With one last look of longing, he closed the door.

Racing back to the other side of the suite, Anakin had just enough time to holster his service weapon and strap his back-up gun to his ankle when there was again a knock at the door.

He opened it and stood back.

While the doorman stood grimly off to the side, Palpatine’s sketchy crew wordlessly entered.

The movers were efficient and observant, but Anakin was relieved that in his haste he had apparently not overlooked something that would tip them off to Ahsoka’s presence.

Closing the door loudly behind him, Anakin followed the text’s instructions and accompanied the men down the private elevator. He assured the building’s doorman and head of security that everything was alright, and climbed into the waiting van.

\------------------------------

Inside the locked bedroom, Ahsoka managed to remain completely silent as tears stream down her face. Upon hearing the front door of the apartment close, however, she let out a wail of despair.

The man she had been in love with for most of her life at last reciprocated her feelings—and her joy had lasted less than a day.

Because Anakin had lied to her.

Although he had fervently insisted otherwise, Ahsoka knew she _was_ going to lose him.

The next time she saw him he would be dead—if they even found his body at all.

Ahsoka also understood that he was right—the police would just make things worse as Sidious was too smart for them.

Anakin, however, was always trying to do everything himself—something that also never worked.

Ahsoka racked her brain for someway to avert the coming disaster that was ripping her world apart. She needed someone else—someone with independent power.

With fierce determination that she wouldn’t lose Anakin without a fight, Ahsoka pulled out her cellphone and scrolled through her recent text messages. She was grasping at straws, she knew, but relief filled her when her call was answered.

“Ahsoka? Is something the matter?” the accented female voice was filled with concern.

Flooded with relief, Ahsoka quickly replied.

“Satine, I need your help.”

\-------------------

Confident that the detective was sufficiently handcuffed by the seizure of his children, the ‘stormtroopers’—as they were known on the streets—did not bother with physical restraints.

Anakin was unsurprised that they arrived at their first stop relatively quickly. As he was at last searched, he waited anxiously as Palpatine’s men decided which items to relieve him of and which he could keep.

Both his guns—which he had worn precisely so they had something dangerous to take—were quickly confiscated.

“Where’s your wallet?” one goon asked.

“I left it in my nightstand,” Anakin replied truthfully.

They left his watch on his wrist, which was a good sign, and the burner phone they had likely been instructed to let him keep.

Distracted at the time by his service gun and secondary revolver in his ankle holster, the men left the pack of cigarettes alone with only the most cursory of pat downs.

But Anakin still held his breath as they continued their search.

The subtle psychology he was banking on, however, held. And somewhere between the fact that his wallet was back at the apartment and the burner phone in his pocket they overlooked the presence of the highly trackable smartphone concealed in his pocket.

“That’s it, tell the boss we’re ready,” the stormtrooper in charge announced.

Seconds later the burner phone pinged to announce the arrival of a new text message.

_Very good, Anakin! Your continued cooperation will be duly rewarded._

The detective could surmise that his prize would be made out of lead and would be delivered at a high velocity. He refrained, however, from giving voice to his cynical thoughts.

As Anakin watched, all of Padmé’s stuff was transferred into a new van, and this time his hands were bound and his vision obscured by a dark hood as he too was bundled in.

This ride, as he predicted to Ahsoka, lasted hours and took a highly circuitous route. At last, however, they arrived at a warehouse, the location of which did not actually matter. Forced onto his knees at gunpoint, Anakin squinted at the sudden brightness as the hood was abruptly removed.

As his eyes adjusted Anakin saw a familiar figure standing before him—Count Dooku silhouetted against the backdrop of a blazing industrial furnace.

“Welcome, Young Skywalker,” the Count announced, his formal tone taking on a note of gleeful anticipation, “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“You’re going to pay for all the people you’ve killed, Dooku!” Anakin declared more out of something to say than any real conviction.

The Count threw his head back and laughed.

“Detective, you disappoint me . . . surely you can do better,” Dooku said, unimpressed with the younger man’s verbal barb.

As Anakin watched, his adversary had all of Padmé’s possessions laid out, with a few items of interest going into a single box.

“Burn the rest,” Dooku ordered.

His heart constricting violently in his chest, Anakin watched as the last vestiges of his wife’s life—her professional accomplishments, their wedding photos, her childhood treasures—were dumped into the waiting furnace and went up in flames.

Dooku laughed at his pained expression, and Anakin was seized with a desire to strangle the life breath out of the older man. He checked himself from physically lashing out, however, recalling that part of Padmé still lived on—in their children—who he was desperately trying to save.

He settled for glaring murderously at the Count—until the hood again covered his face and he was roughly shoved into the trunk of a waiting car.

\-------------------

Ahsoka sat beside Satine in the back seat of the sleek black limousine—the box containing Anakin’s evidence and Padmé’s yearbook at her feet. With the passenger seats facing each other, the interior of the cabin felt more like a roaming office than a car.

They were currently parked a narrow ally in Concordia—one of Coruscant’s decidedly rougher neighborhoods. Although Satine trusted her driver implicitly, the privacy divider was currently up.

It was clear to Ahsoka that Satine was fully aware of just how out of place her posh vehicle was in this part of town, and asked no questions, as the two women sat in not especially comfortable silence.

They were waiting for something—or someone—but who Ahsoka had no idea.

Finally the door opened and a lithe figure dressed in a scuffed white and blue leather jacket and matching motorcycle helmet climbed into the car. Ahsoka was pretty sure the new arrival was another woman, but beyond that had no clue of the mysterious figure’s identity.

Until she removed her helmet to reveal the red hair and strikingly familiar facial features of the Nite Owl herself—Bo-Katan—former lieutenant now leader of Death Watch.

“But she’s your enemy!” Ahsoka exclaimed.

Satine rested a calming hand on the younger woman’s knee, her eyes never leaving the intense gaze of her longtime adversary.

Ahsoka saw that the arrogant smile from the redhead’s mug shot was gone.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Bo-Katan soberly answered Ahsoka, herself unflinchingly meeting Satine’s gaze, “. . . and there is no greater enemy than Sidious.”

“There was a time when we were not enemies,” Satine replied, “Perhaps that time has come again.”

\-------------------

The length of this latest journey unknown, Anakin finally felt the car come to a permanent stop.

After Dooku opened the trunk and yanked off hood, Anakin saw he was in an industrial plant of some kind. Through a few dirty windows high above he noted that the sky appeared much darker than midafternoon. He was also quickly struck by a wave of heat.

Between the pollution darkened sky and the high interior temperature, Anakin surmised that he must be in one of the steel manufacturing plants in the Mustafar district.

Anakin then focused his attention on Dooku, who loomed over him as he pulled out a knife.

“I trust you understand that your children will be punished should you _misbehave_ . . . ” the Count said, sneering down at the younger man.

Anakin glared daggers back up at him, but nodded wordlessly.

Dooku sliced the plastic ties binding Anakin’s ankles wrists, and then stepped back. Pulling out a gun to further motivate his prisoner into unwavering cooperation, he motioned for Anakin to get out of the car.

The detective had made sure the cigarette box concealing his cellphone was securely in his breast pocket before the trunk was opened, and as he now climbed out he was careful not to dislodge it.

Once disembarked, Anakin took a moment to survey his surrounding. The machinery used to transport and pour the molten steel was massive. Dwarfing it all, however, was the blast furnace, and the young detective now knew what happened to the bodies that Sidious did not want to be found.

With Dooku keeping him at gunpoint, Anakin obediently carried the box containing Padmé’s remaining possessions up a set of metal stairs, along a catwalk, and into a supervisor’s office overlooking the factory far below.

There stood Palpatine—the Emperor—dressed all in black.

For the first time Anakin saw the sinister crime lord as he truly was—not a man but a monster.

And in front of Palpatine stood Leia—the crime lord holding one of her shoulders in a vice gripe while the muzzle of his gun grazed her temple.

At the sight of his daughter—terrified with tears streaming down her cheeks—Anakin could barely contain his rage.

“Daddy!” Leia cried.

“Be brave, Princess,” Anakin told her, mustering confidence and control into his voice that he did not himself feel.

He then turned his eyes to Sidious, who smiled evilly at him.

“Yes, now that we have dispensed with the pleasantries, Anakin my boy would you be so good as to deposit the contents of that box onto the desk,” Palpatine said with perverse banality.

Without a word Anakin laid Padmé’s yearbooks onto a desk off to the side.

“It’s finished, my lord. We have it at last,” Dooku said surveying the thick volumes.

“Indeed,” Palpatine replied.

In that moment Anakin was powerless to do more than glower at the man who had murdered his wife, kidnapped his children, and was about to finish the job of destroying his family.

“Padmé trusted you . . . we both trusted you,” he spat venomously.

“Her death was unfortunately necessary, as I’m afraid is yours . . .” Palpatine replied.

With that the Emperor abruptly raised his gun and fired.

The deafening bang mingled with Leia’s screams, and Anakin braced himself for the round to pierce his body.

But no shots arrived.

Instead beside him _Dooku_ fell to the ground.

“What the-” Anakin exclaimed in stunned disbelief.

“I told you I came back to tie up loose ends,” Palpatine answered, “Which I’m afraid also really does include you.”

Through the haze of his mental shock, the young detective’s mind rapidly processed the sudden turn of events. Reassessing the drastically altered situation, Anakin realized that with Dooku gone it might actually be possible to get Leia away from Palpatine and out of this alive.

With the window of opportunity rapidly closing, he quickly launched into action.

“Well congratulations,” Anakin said bitterly, before a wicked grin came over his face, “Except . . . I think you’ll find that ‘the Count’ doesn’t count so good.”

Palpatine at last turned his full attention to the books on the desk, and suddenly realized that one of Padmé’s highschool yearbooks was missing—her _senior_ yearbook.

“If you want I can show it to you,” Anakin announced with forced bravado.

Both men were well aware that the serious oversight by the crime lord’s underling was delaying Palpatine ability to execute the Skywalkers—as he now had to find out where the missing yearbook was and how many more people he would have to kill to get it.

Seeing that for moment his gamble was paying off, Anakin deftly reaching into his breast pocket, took out the cigarette box, and removed his phone.

As he went to unlock it and pull up his recent photos, he found a text message from Ahsoka waiting for him.

_We’ve got Luke._

And with that Anakin was no longer fighting with one hand tied behind his back. Buoyed by the hope that both of his kids could make it out alive if he could just get Leia away from Palpatine, he plowed on with reckless abandon.

“It’s over _Shev_ ,” the young detective declared with increasing confidence, “Whatever happens you’re going down too.”

His goal, of course, was to keep the crime lord off balance and goad him into again moving his gun away from Leia—and Anakin saw it was working.

Sidious stared transfixed at the photograph of his graduation message to Padmé shining brightly on the screen, his face reddening and contorting with rage. The muzzle of his gun slipped away from Leia’s forehead as a wave of fury washed over him, along with a desire to reflexively shoot Anakin dead where he stood.

Other than his message to Padmé, Palpatine had made precious few mistakes in his brilliant criminal career . . . but before he could act the Emperor discovered that he had made another large one.

He had brought the wrong Skywalker twin as hostage to this meeting.

While her brother would have been petrified with fear, Leia was both terrified and furious. She somehow had her wits about her enough to realize that for her Daddy to do anything he needed the bad man to let her go.

Sensing his distraction and the gun moving away from her head—she bit down on the hand that held her with all her might and dropped to the floor.

In the split second before Palpatine could bring her back into his crosshairs, Anakin let out a below of anger and charged him.

And at last the crime lord’s gun was fully trained on him instead of his daughter.

Palpatine got off a few rounds but Anakin kept coming . . .

With a mighty crash Anakin barreled into Palpatine, and launched him through the office window.

Hanging halfway out of frame of now shattered glass, Anakin watched as if in slow motion Sidious fell through the air—screaming in rage the whole way down—until his body hit the concrete floor with a sickening thud. In the strange silence, blood began pooling around the now lifeless corps.

With his own blood seeping out from where the bullets had struck him, Anakin soon slid down to the office floor.

“DADDY!” Leia screamed, “HELP! . . . _HELP!_ ”

Anakin knew he wasn’t going to make it. At peace that his twins were safe, he was okay with that.

Impossible as it was, however, Anakin thought he heard footsteps on the stairs outside . . . before he at last slipped into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and for all the comments and kudos.
> 
> Editing the last chapter now, and hoping to post it ASAP.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone happily moves on with their lives.

The strange awareness of again being conscious of himself and eventually his surrounding gradually penetrated the fog of Anakin’s mind.

His whole body felt like lead, and he couldn’t do more than twitch a few fingers. He did appear, however, to be breathing on his own, which was a good sign—and validated the surprising reality that he was apparently not dead.

His chest felt like . . . well like he’d been shot.

Slowly and with great effort he tried to open his eyes. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he was at last rewarded with the lifting of his eyelids.

From the ceiling alone Anakin could tell he was in a dimly light hospital room. The head of his bed was also thankfully elevated enough for him to be able to glace around.

Looking to his right, he was met with the profoundly welcome sight of Ahsoka sitting at his bedside, and Anakin found his vision becoming rather glassy.

She was currently seeking solace during the long vigil in her smartphone and had not yet noticed he was awake, and Anakin now focused on the problem of getting her attention. The task, however, was easier said than done. As a consequence of being intubated on a ventilator for goodness knows how many days, his throat was incredibly sore, and his mouth was so dry it felt like it was full of sand—which Anakin hated.

After several failed tries he finally achieved a modicum of success.

“Snips,” Anakin managed to rasp out.

At the sound of his voice Ahsoka dropped her phone and her eyes flew to his face.

“Anakin!” she exclaimed.

Ignoring her fallen mobile, Ahsoka leapt to her feet and rushed towards him. While her hands caressed his face she covered him with kisses as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Anakin was initially a bit startled before a flood of recent memories brought his mind up to speed.

_Oh . . . right._

Ahsoka eventually pulled away and rang his call bell. After that more things than Anakin could keep track of seemed to happen all at once. A nurse rushed into the room, followed shortly by a doctor and a respiratory therapist. Anakin didn’t really understand what they were talking about, but was happy when someone at last gave him a drink of water.

The long and the short of it appeared to be that—in typical Skywalker fashion—all of Palpatine’s bullets had missed his heart and major blood vessels, and his lungs and the rest of the damaged tissue was recovering surprisingly well.

The longer he was awake the stronger Anakin felt, and he could now move his hands and arms a bit.

While the medical team worked, Ahsoka updated Obi-Wan and Satine, and the pair rushed to the hospital.

“Oh Anakin! Thank goodness! Everyone’s been praying so hard for you!” Satine exclaimed.

Anakin flashed her a grateful smile before turning to his partner.

“I think you got shot just to get out of doing your paperwork,” Obi-Wan deadpanned.

“Ha ha,” Anakin replied, as the two men clasped hands in a brotherly way.

Collectively they filled Anakin in on what had occurred while Palpatine’s goons were driving him around with a hood over his head. Satine’s sister, Bo-Katan, had used her contacts in the underworld to locate Luke, and the combined force of Rex and Cody’s team along with Death Watch had managed to rescue him.

Satine had also been able to subtly alert Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka located Anakin by tracking his phone. They’d thought to bring an ambulance with them when they stormed the Mustafar factory—arriving just in time to miraculously save Anakin from bleeding out.

Although Palpatine was dead, fear for the Skywalker’s safety still raged, and Anakin’s hospital room was being heavily guarded. Even then Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Rex had still considered the measures insufficient, and the trio had taking turns at Anakin’s bedside round the clock.

The twins, Ahsoka informed him, had been whisked back to the fortress of Sola’s home under the doubly vigilant eyes of Cody and the rest of their former military crew as soon Anakin made it out of surgery alive and the doctors were surprisingly optimistic about his prognosis.

The minute the news reached Sola that Anakin was awake, however, the Naboo contingent loaded up and caravanned south. It was not long after Anakin was transferred out of the ICU to a regular floor that they arrived in Coruscant and burst into his hospital room.

“DADDY!” Leia cried.

Before anyone could stop her she launched herself onto his bed, buried her face into his chest, and burst into tears. Luke was not far behind her. It was quite painful and difficult to actually embrace his children—but Anakin did not care. Sparing Ahsoka a glance to reassure her that the twins were not reinjuring him, Anakin turned his full attention to his sobbing son and daughter, and joined his tears with theirs.

Although Ahsoka remained to assist if needed—herself getting fairly choked up with emotion—everyone else quietly left the room to give the family a moment alone.

The twins eventually fell asleep and Anakin inclined his head to Ahsoka, who remained quite snifflely with puffy red eyes.

“I told you you weren’t going to lose me, Snips,” Anakin murmured with his usual brashness.

Ahsoka began crying openly, and she let out a laugh.

“I thought I was never going to see you again, Anakin,” she told him sorrowfully.

“You probably wouldn’t have if you hadn’t found Palpatine’s note in Padmé’s yearbook in the nick of time and somehow got Luke away from Sidious’ goons . . . I owe you one, Snips,” Anakin said with heartfelt gratitude, before added somberly, “Actually, I owe you a lot more than one.”

“I don’t want you to owe me anything, Anakin . . . I just want you,” Ahsoka emphatically told him.

“Well as long as you don’t mind two currently traumatized five-year-olds as part of the package, you’ve got yourself a deal,” Anakin said as he flashed her his trademark grin.

“Of course not! I would love nothing better,” Ahsoka replied.

Tears again slid down her cheeks—this time of happiness. Carefully leaning over the side of the bed to not wake the twins, she gave him a gentle kiss and caressed his face.

“So what do we do now?” Ahsoka asked.

“Probably take it one day at a time,” Anakin answered pragmatically.

Any further discussions of their future would have to wait, however, as they were interrupted by Sola gently knocking on the door.

“Anakin, it’s getting late,” she said, drawing his attention to the now dark sky outside his window, “I should get the twins back to Satine and Obi-Wan’s.”

Anakin reflexively tightened his grip on his children, but then nodded his assent.

The twins were gently roused, and although groggy knew exactly what was going on. Luke began to cry and Leia began to throw what Anakin could tell would be an especially spectacular temper tantrum at the impending separation from their father.

Anakin himself was not happy they were about to leave, and flashed Ahsoka a plaintive look.

“It’s okay, I’ll get them back to the penthouse later,” she told Sola.

Sola replied with a grateful smile. She then bid her niece and nephew an affectionate goodbye, and after receiving the Luke and Leia’s sleepy replies, wished the adults a goodnight and left the room.

None of them, however, could bear to be separated at all that night, and Ahsoka and the twin never did go back to the penthouse. With the nurses graciously working around the children clinging to their father, Anakin fell into a peaceful sleep with Luke and Leia in his arms and Ahsoka passed out on a nearby recliner.

As wonderful as it was, however, both adults were aware this was not feasibly for the entirety of his hospital stay. Although Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Rex continued taking turns guarding Anakin, the next night the twins were prevailed upon to sleep in the penthouse by their father’s entreaty that they bring him back some non-hospital food the next day.

The following morning Anakin was roused by their early return.

“Shush, Daddy’s sleeping!” Leia told her brother in a stage whisper loud enough to wake the dead.

Anakin smiled and chuckled to himself before opening his eyes to greet them. Satine’s chief had sent along one of his favorite dishes, and doughnuts from a really good bakery near the 501st had also been procured.

The routine replayed itself each morning until the day when Anakin at last left the hospital with them.

At Satine and Obi-Wan’s insistence Ahsoka, Rex, and the twins continued to stayed in the penthouse while Anakin was convalescing. Meanwhile, Cody, a quickly healing Echo and the rest of the boys remained in Naboo with Sola to ensure her family remained safe during the fall out following Palpatine’s death.

In the end, however, the reprisal that everyone feared against the Skywalkers by remaining Imperial agents never came—as Sidious himself had already purged Coruscant of anyone high up enough in the Empire to know too much.

The fall out from the scandalous revelation that Coruscant Mayor and Presidential candidate Sheev Palpatine was the crime lord ‘Emperor,’ however, was immense. With everyone in shock at just how close Sidious had come to being the leader of the free world, his longtime political rival Mon Mothma won the election by a landslide.

While Commissioner Yoda and Captain Windu insisted their prize crime fighting stallion fully recover before returning to the police force, Obi-Wan did his best to keep and antsy and bored Anakin updated on what was known of the seismic shifts occurring in the landscape of the Coruscant underworld. The abrupt fall of the Empire left a sudden power vacuum among the criminal class, and a messy power grab was well underway. Bo-Katan’s reconciliation with Satine was holding, furthermore, and when the younger Kryze sister eventually dismantled Death Watch it only added more confusion into an already chaotic situation.

Everyone was confident, however, that Coruscant’s finest would be up to the task of maintain peace, order, and the rule of law in their fair city—especially when Detective Skywalker finally returned to duty.

Enduring the wait to be medically cleared with his usual impatience, Anakin tried to focus on moving his family forward in rebuilding their life.

In a bittersweet decision he decided it was best if the family sold their old brownstone home—it would be too hard for both him and the twins to live their after Padmé’s death. That and Anakin couldn’t quite give up the view he’d come to love so much over the past two years. In the end he did not have to since Satine sold him the apartment suite on the floor below the penthouse for a song because she could.

Assured they would not be sent back to Naboo and away from their father, the twin’s separation anxiety eventually calmed down enough for them to start kindergarten late at the private academy that Padmé had wanted them to attend. Once they were all settled into their new rooms in the apartment and school, Anakin was grateful to see that his children were at last beginning to thrive once more.

Things with Ahsoka were going better than Anakin could have ever dreamt possible—although since it was Ahsoka he really shouldn’t have been surprised.

With everything going on the months flew by, and it was shocked to realize it was already July. Anakin took the opportunity invite Ahsoka over for a special Independence Day dinner.

Although she had dressed up for what had been promised to be a fancy affair, Ahsoka had assumed it would be a family affair. However, she arrived at the Skywalker’s apartment suite and was a little bewildered to find the table laid out for a highly romantic dinner for two.

“Where are the twins?” Ahsoka asked.

“Sola’s in town with her family, and I thought it would be nice for Luke and Leia to spend some time with them,” Anakin replied as he lit the candles on the table and poured her a glass of expensive wine.

After pulling out Ahsoka’s chair for her as she took a seat, Anakin brought out the first of several courses. He’d enlisted the help of Satine’s chief for the occasion, and by the end of the meal both agreed she had truly outdone herself.

“Thank you, Anakin. That was absolutely amazing. This whole evening has been such a lovely surprise,” Ahsoka said as he cleared their dessert plates.

Anakin smiled to himself.

“I actually have another surprise for you,” he replied.

Returning to the dinning room with an elaborately wrapped gift box, Anakin set it in front of Ahsoka and crouched down beside her chair.

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows at him.

“Open it,” Anakin insisted, a smirk of anticipation tugging the corners of his mouth.

His face broke out into a full grin, however, as Ahsoka’s mouth dropped open in shock at the box’s contents.

Inside was a replica of the blue and white dress she had been wearing during the raid at the Mos Eisley Cantina.

“Oh Anakin! It’s beautiful!” Ahsoka joyfully exclaimed, “This was my favorite dress, and I was so sad when it got ruined!”

“Yeah, me too,” he quipped back.

“But I bought it _years_ ago. Where on earth did you find this?” she exclaimed, unable to tear her eyes away from colorful fabric as she reverently skimmed the dress with her hand.

“I got some help from Satine’s designer,” he replied, “I think she did an amazing job recreating it.”

Ahsoka finally set the dress aside and looked up at Anakin with tears of joy in her eyes. He returned her look of love, relishing the sight of her so happy.

With shining eyes full of gratitude, Ahsoka leaned down and caressed his face before giving him a lingering kiss.

“I also got you an accessary,” he informed her when they finally broke apart.

Dropping more fully onto one knee, Anakin reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box—which he opened to reveal a blue sapphire ring.

“Ahsoka, will you marry me?” he asked.

In reply Ahsoka launched herself at him with enough force to tackle him to the ground, where she proceeded to passionately kiss him.

Anakin took that to mean her answer was ‘yes.’

When they at last came up for air, Ahsoka appeared ready to dive right back in. Although Anakin was also disinclined to do anything but spend the rest of the evening kissing her, that was unfortunately not part of his elaborate plan.

“I better let you better go get changed,” he told her,” Obi-Wan and Satine already agreed to convert their annual Fourth of July soiree into our engagement party . . . and it starts in half an hour.”

Although Ahsoka was overjoyed, the degree of Anakin’s smug overconfidence that his proposal would be accepted did not escape her notice.

“Anakin you are . . . utterly presumptuous . . . and completely incorrigible,” Ahsoka informed him in between kisses.

“I am . . . I really am,” he heartily agreed as he kissed her back.

After several more minutes, Anakin finally pulled away with great reluctance so Ahsoka could get ready for the party.

Hands intertwined they made a triumphant and fashionably late entrance. Seeing Ahsoka was wearing her new dress and matching engagement ring, the boisterous crowd let out a cheer as the pair walked through the door.

Sola and her husband beamed at them—for while Anakin had already told Ahsoka they were in town he had neglected to mention they had come down specifically for the occasion. Behind them, Luke and Leia were laughing as they happily ran around the penthouse with their cousins Ryoo and Pooja. Rex, Cody, a fully recovered Echo, and the rest of the boys were in attendance, as well as Ahsoka’s Uncle Plo and a few of her close friends.

As soon as Anakin and Ahsoka had greeted everyone, Obi-Wan and Satine called for a toast. Following their hosts’ lead all the guests raised flutes of champagne in honor of the happy couple.

Everyone except Satine . . . who was drinking something else.

Satine who, Anakin knew, absolutely loved champagne.

After the toast the young detective caught his partner’s eye.

“Um, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, eyeing the drink in Satine’s hand.

“Oh, we didn’t want to steal your thunder . . . but we’re expecting!” Satine announced with joy.

The already jubilant mood was suddenly elevated several notches. Anakin clasped forearms with Obi-Wan before giving him a brotherly embrace, and Ahsoka gave Satine a warm hug.

With the fireworks set to begin soon everyone headed onto the balcony. While Ahsoka and Sola helped Luke and the other children climb on a deck chair to make sure they could see, Anakin hoisted Leia onto his shoulders.

The display was especially spectacular this year—with the highlight as always being the grand finale over 500 _Republica_.

Anakin smiled as he watched the smoke of celebration settled over Coruscant— at last looking forward to embracing the future.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for coming along for the ride, and for all the comments and support. I can’t tell you how much it is appreciated.
> 
> I’ve gotten some inquiries about a sequel. As you can probably tell from my other stuff, I do love my sequels. While there will likely be one for this, it will be a minute as it will probably have something to do with the Mandalorian (so excited for Season 2 and hope Ahsoka is in it!). Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments and kudos much appreciated!


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